


Goldfinch

by JackyM



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: AH ALSO some warnings for internalized homo/biphobia!, M/M, also ahhh i guess this is an au where it's longer?? i am not sure ;w;, harry and dale are both bi and this is good and important!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: Dale Cooper is quite cuddly in private.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH this is my first Twin Peaks fanfic, so, please be gentle!! ;w; I've never written either of these characters before so! Ye! It was fun writing them both! :D
> 
> Also I wrote this at around five in the morning and I think it is good, for something I wrote at five in the morning! òwó9

Dale had a couple of nervous habits when it came to affection, none of which made themselves apparent before Harry and Dale felt comfortable calling themselves partners. Dale had never been a particularly overwrought fellow, at least, not from Harry’s perspective. Dale tended to carry himself well, and certainly wasn’t prone to visible nervous breakdowns, or if he was, never in the company of others. Harry attributed a lot of these sudden skittish tendencies to being in a relationship in any case; he knew just by being friends and work partners with Dale that relationships were an area he was, at best, not the most comfortable or confident in, and much less, the types of relationships far less well received than the conventional ones. It explained Dale’s awkward fidgeting when they did more than just pat each other on the back in public. And Harry understood it; Dale’s responses were always subtle enough for nobody to read much into but enough for Harry to get the message. Sometimes Dale’s focus became suddenly even more intense, and his body stiffer, whenever Harry put a hand on Dale’s knee during a work-related conference. Other than these occasional tics, though, nothing in the way the two interacted changed at all; if anything, it reached a certain level of emotional intimacy and openness Harry had never felt before. While Dale felt quite similarly, that wasn’t enough to persuade him to be more open about his relationship with Harry to the public. Though Twin Peaks had always proven itself, again and again, to be a surprising and accepting place no matter the subject of his concern, this was something entirely different, something he’d seen repulsed for a majority of his life and something he himself had trouble embracing as an exact definition of who he was. 

But as anxious as public affection made him, Harry was quite in love with just how endearingly affectionate Dale was in the comfort of their living space, which as of late had been shared by them both, more and more. Though physical contact made Dale feel a mix of emotions, some good, some terrifying, the confines of Harry’s walls melted all of his concern away. Dale was, for lack of better terms, downright cuddly. This wasn’t a new side of Dale, per se; the way he talked about Harry even in the conversational manner was waxing poetic in some moments, enough to make Harry wonder if Dale wrote mushy love poetry in his spare time, and just how much of it he wrote, if so. It might explain the mumbling Dale did into his tape recorder late at night about just how wonderful cuddling with his partner felt, in beautiful, intricate, adorably mushy detail.

* * *

It was the kind of night where nothing was happening, and the cool dark air outside felt, for once, free of tension and the suspicion the something terrible was lurking outside. These nights were not infrequent, of course, but in both Dale and Harry’s line of work, the feeling that something dangerous could happen in the near future was rarely dissolved. For the both of them, this feeling of placidity was a good, uncommon one. It was late in the evening, but early in the night, about ten past eight. Harry was reading a birding book, briefly fixated on a page on common finch species. Dale, making all the noise of a large cat, sat himself down next to Harry on the couch. Ever so softly and slightly, Dale leaned his head on his partner’s shoulder. He did it with so much tenderness it, minuscule as the action was, Harry found himself blushing and not thinking about finches at all. Harry knew Dale well; very well, in fact. He knew Dale wasn’t the type to be coy, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on his face as he, in a heartbeat, took notice of Dale leaning on to his shoulder and wrapping those soft hands of his around Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned his head and rested his forehead on Dale’s, for just a few moments, just feeling him there. When he moved his head away, he noticed where Dale’s eyes’ focus had shifted.

“American goldfinch,” said Harry, feeling himself smiling again and pointing to the vibrant yellow bird on the page Dale was focused on, “pretty common around here. It’s the state bird of Washington, actually.”

“American goldfinch,” Dale repeated, smiling, “there are so many different bird species here, Harry. Hawk told me it’s not uncommon to see multiple species of birds in the same tree. _Multiple_ bird species in the same _tree_ , Harry. Almost as if the ecosystem is manifest and visible to the human eye. I don’t think I have ever been to a place as rich in different native species as Twin Peaks.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. You’ve probably seen an American goldfinch before, even. They live all over. In fact, they live pretty much all over year-round.”

“I have probably seen many different species of plants and animals throughout the course of my life, yes. But I suppose what I am trying to say is that it feels as though everything here is easier to notice. It is comparable, I think, to how meditation induces a kind of consciousness not otherwise felt. A conscious knowing of what is going on around, and within you. I feel more conscious of what is living around me, of how much truly exists around me, and how much of it there is. Often I have closed my eyes and remained absolutely still and took in how rich everything around me is, and how it smells and feels and _is_.”

“ _Wow_ , Coop,”Harry chuckled, “most people would just say they enjoy being in nature, because it’s all around them, and there’s nothing else _to_ notice.”

Dale shrugged.

“I felt as though describing it that way would fail to completely encompass how I spiritually I felt about the wildlife and trees here. I feel more connected than I might simply going into the woods to escape civilization.”

“Makes sense. Things are always like that for you. Spiritual, I mean. Or related to dreams or visions, or…,” Harry briefly looked shocked with himself even saying it, “magic.”

“I only used that once,” said Dale, raising his eyebrows.

“But it worked. It really worked. It’s beyond me how you do it, Coop.”

“Maybe it’s because things are always like that for me. Spiritual, I mean.”

“Yeah, that. Or maybe it’s just you,” Harry chuckled and ruffled Dale’s hair, “you’re a pretty magical person.”

Dale didn’t respond; he usually didn’t when he heard these things. He looked away, but Harry knew he was stifling a smile and a flushed face and absolutely failing at that. Dale wasn’t too good at flirting, much less, coming back with anything equally as dashing when he was flirted with.

“You make my fingers and toes tingle a lot,” he said, unable to say much else, “and also you make my heart beat faster. I don’t know what my resting heart rate is, at least, not off the top of my head, but it’s probably several more beats per minute. Which can only be explained as a result of you making me feel a mix of very positive emotions which amount up to one very positive emotion that is caused by your presence, thinking of you, or a combination of the two.”

“I know you get nervous saying it,” mumbled Harry, leaning forward and kissing Dale’s forehead, very gently, repeatedly, “but it’s okay to say it, Coop. I promise.”

Harry stopped kissing Dale for a few moments, and looked his partner in the eyes. And in that moment, there was nothing stopping Dale from saying it. Harry was a bit astonished when Dale wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Harry returned the favor, and also made a mental note to ask Dale where he acquired such soft pajamas. They were silent for a few moments, and the only audible sound was that of wind running through tree branches and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Dale broke the silence after he tenderly pulled himself apart from Harry, and pressed his forehead against his partner’s. And he felt a mix of things. Comfortable was one. Safe was another. In complete, total, head-over-heels love was another, but he’d felt that for a long while now. 

“I love you.”

Harry smiled. He took Dale’s hands in his own and kissed his fingers, a few times, each time just as gentle as the last. 

“I love you too.”


End file.
